


The Chain

by beefybuffybucky



Series: The Chain [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cheating, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 06:16:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14037999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beefybuffybucky/pseuds/beefybuffybucky
Summary: After listening to The Chain by Fleetwood Mac, painful memories of your last night with Bucky come flooding back. (A fic based off of the song.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey kiddos! This is my first fic, and I’ve literally never written anything like this, so if you could, leave some suggestions!! (Please be nice I’m horrified as all hell.)

_**Listen to the wind blow, watch the** **sun rise** _

_**Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies** _

You lean against a cushion in the large bay window in your room as rain patters against the panes of glass just inches from your head. Your hair was a mess of tangles and curls, and your clothing was the same sweatpants and hoodie it’s been for the last two days…or was it three…or four?

You can’t remember when you had put on the record, but Rumors by Fleetwood Mac played throughout the desolate room, and you felt the lyrics seep into the empty hollows of your being. Just as The Chain started to play, your breath hitched in your throat. The record must’ve been scratched somewhere, and was stuck on repeating the same lyrics, over and over again.

_I can still hear you say you would never break the chain - break the chain - break the chain_

You couldn’t will your body to drag itself up and take the record off of the player. Tears began to prick at your dry, puffy eyes.

You never thought your relationship with Bucky Barnes would end like this. Up to this point, every waking moment with Bucky had been a gift - a gift you never thought you deserved. It was a whole two years filled with joy, pure bliss, and adventure that you never envisioned yourself ever getting to live through. Your bond felt invincible.

_**Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night** _

_**Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies** _

_**Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light** _

You remember the exact time you got the call - the time when your world came crashing down in jagged, irreplaceable pieces all around you.

* * *

 

_**And if you don’t love me now** _

_**You will never love me again** _

_**I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain** _

_Your cell phone goes off, causing you to stir from your sleep. Squinting at the bright screen, Bucky’s name shines brightly. **That’s weird** , you thought. Bucky was supposed to be on a mission and usually wasn’t able to use his cell. You answered. _

_“Bucky?” You ask groggily through a veil of sleep. “Are you okay?”_

_You hear him sniffle through the phone._

_“I’m so s-sorry, Y/N,” he mutters. “I’m so, so sorry, I-I fucked up,” he whimpers. You sit up in bed and look at the clock on your nightstand. 1:37 a.m._

_“Bucky, baby? What’s wrong?” You quickly become concerned, and any trace of sleep that had previously weighed down your body vanished. A pit plants itself in your stomach._

_“I c-can’t lose you, please forgive me,” he mumbles. You could hear his uneven breathing through the waves of sobs he was trying to hold back. Throwing your blanket off your body, the cool air in the room drains the heat from your skin. You pad over to the bay window next to your bed._

_“What are you talking about?” You run a hand through your lightly tangled hair and take a seat against the cushions. The city lights softly illuminate the features in your face. “Where are you?” A small quiver ripples through your voice._

_“The b-bar on the corner a few blocks down.” Another sniffle. “Can you p-please come and…,” his voice slurs. You could almost smell the booze on his breath through the phone._

_“Yeah, I’ll uh…I’ll come and get you,” you reply, taken aback by his location. Why was he at a bar?_

_Half an hour later, you had managed to lug Bucky up the stairs your apartment. You sat him down on the bed and walked across the room to get him clean clothes._

_Instructing him to lift up his arms, you carefully peel off his shirt. As you reach for the clean one on the floor at your feet, Bucky mutters something under his breath._

_“What?” You gently place your hands on his cheeks, delicately lifting his head so you could look at his face. His eyes were bloodshot, and the smell of alcohol attacked your sense of smell. You already knew he was drunk, but not this drunk._

_“I fucked up,” Bucky slurs through his teeth. You blink, letting out a short, shaky laugh, and drop your hands, snatching the new shirt off the floor._

_“Bucky, you’re drunk,” you breathe as you attempt to pull the shirt over his muscular torso. He lowers his head again. The pit in your stomach was back, and growing by the second. Bucky reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, tossing it onto the bed next to his thigh._

_“Check my phone,” his words sounded weak and heavy at the same time. “It’s all there.”_

_You blink a few times at his words, and a few moments pass before you tenderly reach for his phone that was screen-down on the bed. Bucky didn’t keep a lock on his phone, so you swipe the screen, and hesitate as your thumb hovers just above the messages icon. Tapping on it, you see the names of various girls, and don’t even have to open the full conversations to know what’s happening. Your mind goes blank, and you feel your body go numb. You have to force your lungs to drag in air and toss the phone back into Bucky’s lap. He didn’t even flinch._

_“You…Are you…,” your words fail you. The numbness transitions into a bubbling anger in a matter of seconds, and suddenly, it was impossible to contain your rage. “How could you fucking **do this** to me?” Your voice ripped through the silence that hung like a fog between you two. “After **all** I’ve fucking done for you! After all we’ve **been through**! How could you just **do** this!” Tears blurred your vision and your fists were clenched at your side. Bucky still doesn’t look at you.Your arm involuntarily whips out and a loud **smack!** echoes throughout the room. _

_“Are you going to say **anything**?” You wail. Bucky’s gaze wavers from his trance and he looks at you with a stony glare. _

_“I’m so sorry,” he garbled through a quivering lip. You shove him back, and whip around, grabbing your phone off the nightstand. Your vision is fuzzy through your swelling tears and raging emotions, but you manage to scroll through your contacts and place a call._

_The line rings two times before you hear a drowsy greeting travel through the phone._

_“Steve? I need you to get Bucky,” you manage with shaky breaths._

**_Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night_ **

**_Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies_ **

**_Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light_ **

_Steve arrived at your apartment twenty minutes later. He took one look at Bucky and his face fell into a look of both pity, and regret. Turning to you, Steve looks at you and notices how puffy your eyes are, and with the state that Bucky is in, everything clicks into place in his head. He simply nods and walks over to where Bucky was still sitting on the bed. Crouching in front of him, he says something to Bucky in a low voice, and you turn away, walking out of the room. A few minutes later, Steve comes out of the room holding a small duffel bag packed with what you assume are clothes. Bucky sloppily trails behind him._

_“I got him,” Steve says as he stops in front of you. You put a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezes, a look of empathy flooding into his kind eyes. You look around him, your eyes landing on Bucky’s slightly hunched figure. His gaze glues itself to the floor. Steve leads him out of your quiet apartment, closing the door gently behind them._

**_And if you don’t love me now_ **

**_You will never love me again_ **

**_I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain_ **

_Bucky returned to the apartment the day after your fight. You had furiously crammed all of his things into a large duffel bag, and threw it into a closet to keep it out of sight. A light knock on the door carries you back into reality. You pry yourself up from the couch and peel away your blankets, various crumpled tissues tumble to the floor. Tears threaten to burn your eyes as you open the closet door and reach in to grab the bag. When you turn around, Bucky is standing in the doorway, eyes fixated on his feet. After a pause, he draws his head up to look at you. New tears had begun to well in his soft, gray eyes, and a few spilled over. His eyes were still bloodshot and puffy. He had to bite his bottom lip to keep it from quivering._

_It took all of your strength to keep yourself from crying. You bite the inside of your cheeks and extend your hand holding the stuffed duffel bag towards Bucky. He slowly raises his hand and takes hold of the bag’s handles, light brushing his hand against yours. You let go, neither of you moving._

_“Y/N…I’m so sorry,” he manages through a quiet cry. Instead of speaking, you put your right hand on his chest. A tear tumbles onto your skin. You could feel where the scars mark his body through his thin shirt. You still said nothing. Gently, you push him away from you and into the hall, shutting the door in front of him._

_You let your body quietly slide down the back of the door. A noise that sounded like a combination of a sigh and a sob was muffled by the door. You waited until you could hear his heavy boots clamber down the hall. A full-on sob racks through your body, your hands fly to your hair as the tears cascade down your warm cheeks. You unleash a scream that probably could be heard for blocks away._

A clap of thunder quickly snatches you back into reality.

Bucky Barnes ripped your life apart and left nothing but a fucking mess. How could you let yourself be so stupid and naive? Damn him, and his fucking lies. Your life was nothing more than shattered pieces scattered around you. Broken glass from picture frames and a few beer bottles litter the room. Bucky was gone…and there was nothing that could be done to fix it. All you could do now was try to forget.


	2. The Chain (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being apart from Bucky for some time, you agree to talk things out with him. But will you let him back into your life, or will you shut him out completely? (You can find Pt. 1 on my blog tagged under #my fics)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of my first fic from my Tumblr blog (@beefybuffybucky). Feel free to check it out!

The atmosphere in the coffee shop is warm and inviting. The tables are packed and baristas move swiftly behind the counter, trying to keep up with the endless amount of drink orders. After ordering a large latte, you give the barista your name and walk away from the counter, the sound of a machine finely grinding espresso and steamers warming milk circling around the air. Loud chatter dances around you, and you finally spot a small open table across the room, nestled in the corner by a large window.

The table stands tall and has raised stools accompanying it. Settling on the stool sitting across from the wall, you dig your phone out of a small pocket in your bag and then tuck it into the small space under the legs of the stool after placing your phone on the table. You take a deep breath, inhaling scents that remind you of fall and the cool autumn breeze. It was nearing the end of September, and with each passing day, the days shortened and the nights extended their reign over the day. You sport a large, comfy scarf, a long sleeve maroon shirt, a black skirt paired with tights and a pair of black combat boots. You thought you could brave the cold in the skirt, but you realized as soon as you stepped outside of your apartment building that you were wrong.

You hear your name being called out above the sea of chatter, light music, and espresso machines, and carefully slide off of your high seat. Walking up to the counter, you thank the barista with a smile and she hurriedly turns away to finish making another drink.

Striding over to your spot, you carefully set the large ceramic mug on the table, the contents of the mug threatening to slosh over the edge at any moment. You push yourself up onto the stool, your feet dangling above the ground, and delicately lift the mug to your lips. Taking a sip, the hot liquid burns your tongue, and you carefully lower your drink. You look at your phone and see one new message notification. Unlocking your phone, Bucky’s contact pops up.

_Where are you?_

You swallow hard.  _By the window, in the corner_ , you type hesitantly. 

When Steve had asked you a few days ago if you would agree to speak with Bucky, you reluctantly agreed. The way things ended between you two sent you flying into a frenzy of heartbreak and sorrow. You locked yourself in your room for days, refusing to return to reality and facing the pain of walking out into an empty apartment. Bucky’s absence left a gaping hole in your life, even though he was the one thing that made your life worth living when nothing else did. At the time, you thought it was a great idea to talk with him - you were completely torn between being so desperate to have him back in your life or trying to forget him. But now that the time was here, it took everything in you to not bolt out the door. You swing one ankle over the other to stop your leg from fidgeting and hook the top of your foot behind the bar in the middle of the stool.

“Hey,” a soft, low voice hums. You look up from your phone to see Bucky standing next to you. A soft, barely-there smile plays at his lips. His hair is pulled into a low, loose bun with a few strands dangling against the side of his face. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and a white t-shirt, dark jeans, and light tan boots. Visible bags from a lack of sleep hang below his eyes, and his beard was a bit rougher than usual.

“H-hey, did you uh, order anything?” You choke out.

“Yeah, just a black coffee,” he says gently as he pulls out the other stool and slides into the seat. Even when he’s sitting, it feels like he towers over you.

“ _David_ ,” a barista calls out above the commotion of the shop.

“Well, that’s me,” Bucky easily slides off his seat and walks up to the counter.  _David?_  You chuckle to yourself. You watch as he grabs a mug from the barista, smiling as his mouth forms a “ _Thank you_ ”.

He walks back over, taking a sip from his coffee and placing it on the table, then settles into the stool again.

“So  _David_ , huh?” A light chuckle escapes your lips.

“I was worried about drawing attention if I used ‘Bucky’,” he grins. Bucky can be such a dork sometimes, but he also had a point. With a guy as attractive as him, he gains enough attention as it is. Throw in his name, and it was sure to cause some sort of spontaneous mob of people trying to talk to and get pictures with Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier.

“So…how are you?” He asks with a concerned tone.

“Could be better,” you mumble. “You?” Bucky looks out the window, gazing at something you couldn’t see.

“Things could definitely be better,” he sighs and casts his gaze downwards. Steam rolls of the surface of his black coffee and into the shop air. Neither of you says anything for a few awkward moments. You pick up your mug.

“How long?” Your words are firm, unwavering. Bucky leans slightly over the table, supporting himself by placing his forearms on the smooth black table top. His arms are long enough to reach more than halfway across the table, holding the mug of coffee between his rough hands - his metal arm was masked by a sort of technological sleeve Tony had made for him awhile ago that mimics the look of skin, disguising the metal. He only wears it when he feels overwhelmed and needs a sense of normalcy.

The inches of distance between you two is the closest you’ve been to him in at least two weeks. A flick of desire to reach out to him and take his hands in yours and beg for him to come home burns in your chest, prompting you to tightly cross your arms. Your chin sinks into your large scarf, and you wish none of this ever happened in the first place. A part of you screams to take him back, but another part continuously begs you to not let him worm his way into your life again so easily.

“What do you -,” Bucky closes his mouth as he processes your question.

His eyes drag up from the coffee in his hands to your face. His brows were knit together in worry, and you could see some tears beginning to well in the corner of his eyes. He looks away again, out the window that your table has been pushed against. Quickly, he purses his lips and runs his tongue along his bottom lip before biting it.

“Three -,” his voice breaks and his head dips. Your heart feels as if it’s dangling by a single thread, and at any moment, the Fates would snip at the frail lifeline with razor sharp tools, sending your world into a never-ending, downward spiral of Hell and heartbreak once again. Bucky brings a closed fist to his mouth and clears his throat, then lowers his arm, slowly rubbing the side of the mug with his thumb.

“Three months,” his whispers.

_Snip._

“Three…three  _months_?” Your voice trembles in disbelief. Contrary to your former belief, that time frame was much, much longer. That was three months of him sneaking around your back, hooking up with other girls. Three months of you spending sleepless nights worrying about him while he was away on missions, but in reality, who knows how many “missions” he really went on.

Gradually, the surroundings of the bustling coffee shop fade away into nothingness. The commotion and chatter of people that mix with the sounds of espresso machines transitions into one solid, buzzing noise. Your peripheral vision blurs, leaving only Bucky in your line of sight.

It’s you, Bucky, and the unspoken truth between you. It feels so quiet in the room that you could hear a pin drop and bounce on the tile floor.

“What - I mean, w-why…,” your thoughts trail off into silence. Your mouth hangs slightly open, and your brain moves at a million miles per hour trying to reprocess what he had done to you and what you should say to him. You want to scream at him, but can barely find air to simply breathe.

“There’s  _nothing_  I want more in the world than to be able to take it all  _fucking_ back,” Bucky sniffles, suddenly bringing you out of your daze. Your attention snaps to him. His gray eyes are lightly rimmed with a delicate red. “I-I don’t know  _why_  it even started in the first place, I just…,” his voice stalls as he promptly sits up, leaning against the wall behind him as he drags a hand down his face. His nose scrunches when he sniffles.

“Do you know what this did to me?” Your voice a barely audible whisper. “What  _your_  actions did to  _me_?” It feels like stones are pulling on your body, preventing you from making a run for it. A wave of anger shoots through your body as searing tears begin to gather in your eyes. Bucky’s focus shifts intensely to you.

“I didn’t sleep…Or eat…O-or even leave our -,” your breath lodges in your throat. “M-my  _fucking_  room for almost a  _damn week._..all because of you, James,” you spat at him. He cringes at your use of his name, and it feels as if your jaw has been welded shut. A few tears escape and slowly cascade down your face. Your breathing is shaky, and your lungs feel like they’re being squeezed. “You destroyed my  _life_ ,” your violent whisper hisses through your teeth as you lean over the table. You’re so close to him now, you were sure he could hear your heart beating erratically from your pent-up anger. “I  _trusted_  you with all my damn heart, and you suddenly decided that it didn’t  _matter_? Do you even  _know_ what it feels like? W-what it feels like to lose -,”

“Everything? Yeah, I do. I lost  _you_ , Y/N,” Bucky’s gaze remains unmoving from yours. The air around you lays heavy and claustrophobic. “I’m just…I’m so, so insanely sorry. You have no clue how fucking  _sorry_  I am,” he faintly whispers.

A prick of desperation jolts you. An increasingly large part of you craves to have him back - back in your arms, back in your bed, back in your life - but there’s still a part of you that continues to remind yourself that what he did should be unforgivable and that he’s never to be trusted again. You’ve been through this before, and you know that second chances rarely ever work out.

_But…what if this one **did**?_

“I know,” you manage calmly. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and feel your heart rate slow down. “You hurt me, Bucky,” the quiver in your voice sends a shiver down your body. Bucky sits up in his seat, covering his face with his hands. A few moments pass before he drops his hands into his lap.

“Is there anything I could  _possibly_  do to make this better?” He questions with a tilt of his head. A trace of burning desperation laced itself into his wavering voice. You gaze drops to your latte and bring it to your lips, taking another sip of the bitter drink. What you wouldn’t give for this to be liquor right now.

“You know I don’t give second chances,” you quietly state as you lower your drink. Raising your gaze, you watch as Bucky purses his lips, nodding. A tear silently slides down his face, getting lost in his beard.

“That’s…understandable,” he whispers unevenly. He draws in a shaky breath and starts to rise. “Well, uh…thank you for agreeing to talk any-”

“But for you, I’d make an exception,” you cut him off. Bucky blinks at you and slides back onto his stool. “For the past few years I’ve known you, I’ve built my life around  _you_. What you did was so insanely stupid, idiotic, and sure as hell  _reckless_ , but I think we can…rebuild.”

Bucky says nothing and continues to stare at you, absorbing your words. You shift in your seat and breathe in an uneven breath through your mouth. A chill roams your body as you realize what you had just admitted. The excitement begins to build in you as you realize that this second chance was your ticket to being able to live again.

As long as you’ve known him, Bucky Barnes has always been the one that’s talked you through anxiety attacks, came to your rescue when random people would try and hook-up with you at bars, and was the person that offered to walk you home at night when you didn’t want to be alone. You have countless memories with him, ranging from hardcore jam session on an evening drive to pranking other members of the Avengers when you would visit the compound.

He was your world, and nothing could change that.

Bucky takes in a quick, sharp breath.

“A-are you being serious?” His face transitions into a look of pure hope and desperation. You reach across the table and place your hand on top of his, giving his a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, I am,” you assure him as a small, sincere smile blossoms on your face. Bucky’s eyes light up as he smiles.

“Thank you, I-I don’t really know wh-what to say I’m just so -,” he stops as another tear threatens to spill over. “Thank you,” he whispers with excitement and a hint of disbelief.

“If you ever,  _ever_  do anything like this again, I will kill you myself,” you warn him.

“Understood,” he chuckles as another smile slowly spreads across your face. “But I have a feeling Steve may beat you to the punch.”


End file.
